


Consistency

by gottageekout



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Androids, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottageekout/pseuds/gottageekout
Summary: He never thought that’d change, but he also never imagined that he’d end up being stuck with an android that would eventually be a major part of a honest-to-god revolution. A part he nearly put in jeopardy because he chose Hank's safety over his objective.Things like that changed someone. Or it at least changed him, because suddenly the same android became a constant, one that both wanted to be there and wanted the best for him. Someone he quickly realized he wanted to be his best self for, too. Three months after the revolution that changed everything about the city, Connor was still there, as permanent a “temporary” guest in his house could be.





	Consistency

**Author's Note:**

> As a heads up, If alcoholism is a trigger, you might want to skip this, because it's a pretty big focus at the beginning. I got a request from a friend that wanted fluff from this fandom and then it became this longer-than-expected thing.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> tumblr it up over [here](http://gottageekout.tumblr.com/) with me.

Consistency had been absent in Hank’s life for longer than he’d have cared to admit. For a long time, he’d deluded himself into being just fine with it, drinking himself into oblivion on a nightly basis, waiting and biding his time until it’d be his last drink. Willing his body to give up so he could stop the pretense of wanting to try. He never thought that’d change, but he also never imagined that he’d end up being stuck with an android that would eventually be a major part of a honest-to-god revolution. A part he nearly put in _jeopardy_ because he chose Hank's safety over his objective.

 

Things like that changed someone. Or it at least changed him, because suddenly the same android became a constant, one that both wanted to be there and wanted the best for him. Someone he quickly realized he wanted to be his best self for, too. Three months after the revolution that changed everything about the city, Connor was still there, as permanent a “temporary” guest in his house could be.

 

If he were honest, he’d admit he'd been surprised when Connor came back after it was all said and done in the first place. He wasn’t not sure why he'd been assuming the worst (see: aforementioned decision to save his sorry hide at the potential cost of _everything_ ), but all he’d felt as he waited around for him that cold morning was that he was officially bigger than him now, more important. Someone who didn’t need someone like _him_ weighing him down. But he did come, and he was equal parts the same goofy-looking asshole he’d seen the day before and an entirely different person who still wanted to, for whatever reason, be his partner.

 

Be his friend.

 

Be…whatever the fuck he was to him now.

 

The thing was, in deciding to stick around, Connor also signed up for what came after. Taking steps to change was a son of a bitch at the best of times and he’d done enough damage to himself that just up and deciding to tell all his bad habits to fuck off wasn’t as simple as just _stopping_. He’d tried not to make a big deal of getting help and getting off trying to kill himself with alcohol when the decision first cemented in his head, but he’d eventually need Connor more than he ever would’ve expected.

 

And he was there. He almost wished he wasn’t a lot of days, when it was tempting to give up on the entire thing because fuck, anything was easier than what he was going through. He’d even said as much during his worst moments, when his brain chemicals were all fucked up and yearning for their fix and the meds he’d been reluctantly taking could only do so much. Connor simply let it slide, knowing that there’d be a point Hank would come to his senses and apologize profusely for being such an ass.

 

(And he did hit that point, every time, only to be reassured he had known he didn’t mean any of it.)

 

It’d been the nightmares that nearly done him in, though. The thing about therapy was you talk about the shit that made you feel like sitting at your table playing Russian Roulette in the first place, and though his therapist broached topics carefully, it was digging up a lot of stuff he’d been actively avoiding for oh, fucking _forever_. Couple that with the extra shitty withdrawal side effect of intense dreams and it made for nights where he either couldn’t sleep because of the insomnia or didn’t want to sleep because his brain was a giant asshole.

 

 _That_ was when shit got weird between them. Or _weirder_ , he supposed, because they were never exactly a normal pair to begin with.

 

The single worst thing his own mind decided to do to him was just take that whole chunk of memory of the crash and recreate it into a nightmare. Hank had woken up just as he started cradling the small, broken body of his son when Connor finally managed to rouse him. It would be the first time he broke down since he didn’t even know when, just fell right the fuck apart in front of his partner in what was probably the most embarrassing, mortifying way possible. And Connor, probably not knowing how else to deal with him breaking at the seams, carefully slid into bed next to him, pulling him easily into an embrace that Hank wholly fucking returned without a second thought, burying his face into the soft undershirt he was wearing. And then they just –

 

Stayed that way. The entire night. Even as the sobs slowed and there was no reason for them to be tangled together, he stayed right where he was and Hank didn’t push him away because of there was a dawning, quiet realization that it felt way better than it had any right to be being held by him like he had been.

 

He’d end up having the best sleep he had in weeks that night. Connor had even opted to be late for work so he didn’t wake up alone, which he explained to him that morning, as they sort of rushed to get ready, in the way someone might explain some random, unimportant fact and not the big fucking deal it actually was. Well, the big deal it was to _him_ , at least.

 

For Connor? That night after work, he sat him down and apologized for putting him in the position, that it wasn’t his job to make sure he was alright when he had so much on his plate already, that he didn’t have to go getting into his bed every time when he was freaking out. Connor had just listened and seemed puzzled by him worrying so much about him feeling put upon.

 

“I wouldn’t do any of this if I didn’t want to, Hank,” he said, again, as though it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.  “Besides, I liked it.”

 

It’d been such an out of the blue admittance that Hank had thought for whatever reason he was fucking with him. ”You…liked it.”

 

…Which was when Hank noticed Connor’s face fall a little and that usual general air of self-confidence falter. Plain as fucking day. “Didn’t you?”

 

It was as though he’d just casually handed him a live grenade. Hank had just stared, taken aback so long that Connor eventually started backpedaling, of all fucking things.

 

“I shouldn’t have made assumptions. I’m sorry, I -“

 

There’d been a moment where the asshole part of his brain was going to let Connor think it wasn’t something he liked, because it was weird, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? But that went out the window the second he started apologizing like he’d done something wrong when it was the exact opposite. Connor’s hand had been on on the table, so he reached out and clasped his own over it. It’d been enough to silence him.

 

“Last night was the best sleep I had all month.”

 

So that was a whole fucking thing. That was where they were at now. Things had gotten easier, the withdrawal and the general side effects of everything he'd been putting himself through to get better were nearly gone, but they were still doing _this_. He would’ve liked to say at some point followed up with all the responsible things he should be asking him, including defining what the hell any of this meant, but no, he had been content to just leave it in this weird limbo where their routine is exactly the same except now, at night, Connor would come padding into his bedroom instead of the couch he’d been sleeping on.

 

The first night had been strange. So had the second and the third. By the end of the first week, however, they were on a case that was fucked up enough that at least Hank found himself grateful to be able to leave it behind once they got home and curl up with each other. He’d found himself loosening up around then, experimenting with positions until they found what the most comfortable one for that night. For something that didn’t involve anything approaching sex, it was more intimate than anything he’d done with anyone in _ages_. Not that the _thought_ hadn’t crossed his mind. There were times he found himself wanting to explore more than the expanse of back he usually wrapped his arm around, to push up the shirt he buried his face against. Because of the lack of defined boundaries, he never attempted, never wanting to put Connor in the position that he felt like he had to. And sure, he could ask, but it’d be a lie if he didn’t say he was worried it’d fucking ruin whatever they were to each other.

 

And he knew that was fucked up, too - being scared of losing someone that wasn’t _his_ to begin with. Connor was his own person now, he could walk right out any time he wanted to. Probably ought to have by now, especially with everything set in stone and androids being able to do pretty much what they pleased. But he hasn’t, and by all accounts he seemed content, and fuck if that doesn’t confuse the hell out of him.

 

 _Seemed_ being the important word there, because as another month rolled by and they continued in this weird bubble of unspoken domesticity, he should’ve seen what he spotted coming, honestly. Got too comfortable, assumed too much, because he was passing by Connor’s desk and spied him looking at what suspiciously looked like listings for someplace to live. He would’ve taken a closer look if Connor hadn’t returned from the Archives. He seemed absolutely fine, even shot Hank a small smile as he sat down.

 

Hank didn’t smile back.

 

He spent the rest of the day feeling like there was a weight on his chest that’d never come off. And yeah, maybe he was being childish – if he was going, well, it was honestly probably _better_ for Connor that way – but it didn’t stop him from dwelling on how little he wanted to return to how shit used to be. An empty, dead house with nothing surrounding him but his own regrets.

 

He barely talked on the ride home. Didn’t really talk at home, either, choosing to just go to bed. Connor seemed to notice something was wrong, but he didn’t really give him any time to ask because he was also very specifically not giving him a window to talk about whatever it was he was planning. It was not at all that mature and he knew it, but fuck.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

He should’ve known acting like he was asleep wouldn’t work on an android that had twenty different scans that could prove otherwise. He felt the bed shift as Connor joined him. He didn’t lay down, however, seeming to choose instead to sit.

 

“Hank.”

 

He was nothing if not stubborn, not turning around or even responding.

 

“I know you’re awake. You’re not even attempting to mask your breathing,” Connor pointed out as if _disappointed_ in how bad he was acting like he was asleep and christ, the smugness made him want to punch him in the face.

 

“Yeah, and I’m not going to actually go to sleep if you keep talking,” he muttered, grumpily. He didn’t need to see him to know he was frowning.

 

Even as he the words slipped out of his mouth, Hank knew he wasn’t being fair. But hell, maybe if he was an asshole, it’d make it easier on Connor to feel comfortable in going if he wanted to leave. He heard a soft sigh before there was more shifting, more movement. He assumed he was lying down but a few moments later, his weight was gone as he stood. Hank could hear a hesitation in his first step, as if he were waiting for him to protest. When it didn’t happen, he just kept going, the door quietly closing behind him.

 

The bed felt barren as he turned over to look towards the shut door. He exhaled a slow breath, shutting his eyes.

 

“…You’re a real piece of shit, Anderson.”

 

That wasn’t his self-loathing talking for once, it was true. All this was was him guilting Connor for something they hadn’t even talked about. This is him spending months not doing a damn thing while his partner did the heavy lifting in their relationship, before and after it changed. He knew he was _good_ at self-sabotage, but this was a whole new level, even for him.

 

Connor didn’t deserve this. Hank didn’t deserve him, period, if he was willing to let this keep going. Leave him sitting out there, confused, wondering what he’d done wrong. Passive aggressiveness wasn’t a fucking good look on anyone, in the end. His mind made up, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed so he was sitting up. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed.

 

Yeah, what he was about to do was going to suck.

 

He headed out of his room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. From where he was standing, he could see Connor had turned off all lights but one small one. He headed over to find…

 

Well. Not him. Not at first. He felt a minor panic attack coming on almost immediately because it very much seemed like he might’ve just straight up _left_ , but once he got close enough to look over the couch, he found Connor on the ground, his face pressed into a very patient Saint Bernard’s fur. Sumo, oblivious to everything, just seemed happy for the unexpected late attention. He could see his partner’s LED light spinning yellow and he knew that was probably because of him.

 

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, mostly to announce he was even there. Connor looked up and over at him, eyebrows lifted in surprise. Hank walked around the couch and stood in front of them and extended his hand, offering it to help Connor up.

 

He looked between him and his hand before tentatively taking it. Hank hefted him up and proceeded to pull him into a hug in one rather impressively fluid motion, if he did say so himself. Connor stilled immediately, likely stunned at the sudden and complete about face.

 

“I’m sorry, I was being an asshole,” he apologized quietly, as simple as that. Conner seemed to relax then and soon after, his arms wrapped around him, too.

 

“Well, I suppose I don’t need to say it if you already know,” he mused quietly, and Hank snorted, burying his face into his chest. He’d been worried he’d push him away, so this was going better than expected so far. They stood there a long moment before Hank finally pulled away enough to look up at him. His little blinking light was back to a light blue.

 

Good.

 

And that was about as far as he planned in the few minutes between deciding he needed to fix this and stopping him. It was very much an error, as he suddenly blanked on how to explain what the hell was going on in his head. Starting it off with how he’d accidentally spied on his plan to move seemed like a terrible idea.

 

So he went for the next best terrible idea.

 

“What are we?” he asked, as if that were an entirely fucking appropriate question to be asking after he pulled.

 

Connor stared at him, and he distantly wondered if he was checking if he was drunk. Fuck, but it’d be nice to fall off the wagon right now, a thought that sent a spike of guilt up his spine real quick. Not even something to joke about, he reminded himself, as he waited for an answer. After a moment, he replied, “Partners?”

 

Fucking partners.

 

“And that’s it,” he said, flatly.

 

“It’s a word with a varied amount of definitions, _Hank_ ,” Connor replied, defensive. He very rarely got frustrated, but it was etched all over his face. He stepped away then, though not in the way that said ‘this-conversation-is-over’. He crossed his arms against his chest, taking a deep breath he didn’t even need to take. “Many of which fit how I feel about you, professionally or otherwise. We haven’t even kissed yet, so I don’t quite know if lovers would be appropriate.”

 

Hank raised a brow, just kind of staring at him. It felt like an invitation to grab his face right now, honestly, and he very much wanted to, but now everything was conflicting. If he wanted that shit, why was he moving out? “Do you want to?”

 

Connor gave him a Look that Hank might’ve honestly burst out laughing at if he didn’t know it’d be an insult. “Apparently in my attempt to be subtle, I’ve been too subtle. Yes, I do.” A beat. “Is this what you were mad about?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“…Of my many talents, none of them involve allowing me to be a mind reader,” Connor stated pointedly when he didn’t elaborate, though he paused after he said it. Reassessed that statement. “With humans, at least.”

 

Fucking androids. Some part of him had hoped Connor would just spontaneously mention what he was doing behind Hank’s back at this point. Apparently not. They’d be going in circles all night the way this was going. He steeled himself, looking his partner in the eye. “Why are you leaving?”

 

Connor stared at him like he had two heads. “I’m _not_.”

 

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Hank challenged, but not without a whole lot of conviction. He’d just revealed his cards and Connor still looked dumbfounded. In all the time he knew Connor, he never showed himself to be a liar, not about shit like this. Still, it was out there, so he clarified, “I saw you looking at other places today at work.”

 

There were a lot of reactions he was waiting to see on his face. Relief was not one of them, but there it was.

 

“ _That’s_ what this is about?” he asked, as if him being angry about it was ridiculous when it wasn’t. A point he was _about_ to make before Connor lifted a hand to silence him. “Give me your phone.”

 

It was on the coffee table where he usually threw it. Reaching over, he grabbed it and held it out to him. “If you’re about to rub this in my face –“

 

Connor rolled his eyes at him. _Rolled his eyes_ , like Hank was being an idiot. He watched Connor interface with his shit, and he could see he was pulling up his own browsing history. Opened the exact page he’d seen on the computer screen from afar. He held out the phone then, close enough for him to see.

 

“Look at the price,” he guided, and Hank did, and holy shit, that was a _price_. Way above either of their paygrades. Connor could probably see he wasn’t entirely following, so he added, “Combine our monthly wages.”

 

Which he did and suddenly that number looked entirely reasonable. What was happening dawned on him. “You want to –“

 

“Move. But together,” he confirmed, letting Hank take his phone from him. A quick scan made it very clear this place was not meant for one android that could technically live in a closet if he wanted to. “Now that I’ve also got a steady income, I was hoping you'd consider finding a place with me, because as much as I like it here, I think it'd do us both good to have newer surroundings. I realized the actual searching portion could be stressful and put you off on the idea, so I was hoping to limit that as much as possible by finding a few initial leads first. That’s why I haven’t brought this up with you yet. If you don't believe me, I have two other places lined up in the same price range.”

 

Hank was just silent for a moment, letting that sink in. He’d been spiraling for nothing and, what’s worse, he had actively not trusted the one person he should’ve known he could trust. “…I’m a fucking idiot.”

 

“A little bit,” Connor agreed, a lopsided smile forming on his face. It was all affection that Hank still didn’t wholly think he deserved.

 

“I’m sorry. I should have known you better than this. I can’t believe I assumed the worse,” he repeated, because that was worth mentioning again now. There was really no excuse for how he’d handled this beyond he was a broken old man who apparently was still _really good_ at finding new and exciting ways to nearly fuck up everything.

 

Connor gently took the phone from him, placing it aside. He faced him then, looking expectant. “You can make amends by answering your own question now.”

 

“…Which?”

 

He held his gaze. “What am I? To you.”

 

Right, that question. Honestly, how could he appropriately sum it up? It was no wonder Connor, despite having dictionaries worth of words implanted into his head, was struggling with it. When nothing but his stupidly simple but technically correct came to mind, he eventually decided it was probably better to just show him. Make up for the lost time of apparently missing every signal Connor had thrown at him since they met.

 

He stepped closer, reaching up to cup his cheek. He saw Connor’s eyes widen a little, but he didn’t pull away. That was all the invitation he needed to bridge what little space was between them to kiss him.

 

It was a little like opening the floodgates. He’d been wanting to do this long enough that he had initially tried to hold back, to not overwhelm him, but that was apparently exactly what he wanted. He’d always distantly wondered if doing this with him would be different than usual. It was.

 

It was better. Even with Connor’s general inexperience as he fumbled a little to follow his lead, it was so much fucking _better_. His partner had always prided himself at being good at basically everything, and it was clear he was treating this shit like he was attempting to _ace_ being an excellent kisser.

 

Hank was reluctant to pull away (especially after his partner fucking moaned against his mouth at one point, a sound that went right through him because _holy shit_ ), but he forced himself. This had been an _indication_ of an answer, but not a real one, and he needed to say it before anything else happened.

 

“Holy shit,” he prefaced outloud, catching Connor’s gaze, unable to stop a practically giddy laugh that bubbled out of him, one that his partner shared. Hank’s hand found his, fingers tangling between Connor’s longer ones. “Lover is a fucking stupid word. Boyfriend?”

 

The look Connor gave him honestly could break him. Just fucking _break_ him, but in a good way. There was honest to god joy on his face and it was all directed right at him. How he’d seen him at his absolute lowest and still be this way with him, he had no goddamn idea. None at all.

 

“That is entirely acceptable to me,” he said, and Hank could feel him squeeze his hand. “I had been…hoping as much.”

 

Of course he had. For how long, he had no idea, nor was he going to ask. No, Hank refused to dwell like he usually did. Instead, he just nodded, understanding.

 

“And as for moving, we’ll put a pin in the discussion for now,” he decided, already stepping back and starting to pull Connor with him toward their room. “Come back to bed.”

 

He didn’t need to be asked twice, allowing Hank to gently start tugging him. The room was exactly as they left it and by then he had this whole fucking speech ready to go on how they were going to do this at the rate Connor wanted to, because as much as he wanted to make up for lost time being an idiot, this was all very new to him.

 

Hell, when they slid into bed, Hank was running on the _assumption_ that would be that for the night. A fact he was entirely wrong about, as it turned out, because it took all of a few seconds for Connor to slide closer and be the one to press his lips to his. The first time they kissed had been rushed, frantic. This time, it was far more languid, and Hank couldn’t remember the last time someone made him practically _melt_.

 

They shifted together wordlessly, getting more comfortable, fitting together as easily as they had been for a while now. He distantly considered just letting this continue because it felt really good, but he knew he couldn’t. Eventually they parted, though their foreheads rested against each other

 

“Connor, I – fuck,“ he exhaled, trying his best to come up with a couple of coherent sentences right now. He wasn’t fucking helping as he felt his hand wandering down the front of his tank top.

 

“If you’re concerned, I am fully equipped,” he offered as casually as he threw most information that wasn’t casual information _at all_ at him. Hank’s eyes flew open and he was about to be glad he was in the dark because he was probably beet red when he realized: no, that really didn’t matter, did it? His question was answered when Connor continued, smugly, “You’re glad.”

 

“Did you just fucking scan me _specifically_ to see my reaction?” he asked, half-laughing.

 

“I was just curious,” he said, playing innocent. He knew better, knew he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. “I never knew when to quite mention it. It’s not something that comes up in normal conversation.”

 

There’s a whole bunch of questions he wanted answered (the chief one being _why_?), but he knew better. For once, he knew better. It was just how things were and he was not going to be the one to start bringing up CyberLife and what the hell they were wanting him to do. It didn’t matter, not anymore. Besides, he much rather focus on the fact he was bringing it up to begin with.

 

“We don’t have to do this tonight, you know,” he offered weakly, trying to do the right thing here. Make sure there’s no false expectations Connor is following. He felt his hand still against him, resting just above his waist.

 

“Do you not want to?” he asked, looking actually concerned. “I realize this might be a little strange for you.”

 

That was the last thing he was ever going to let Connor even start to consider. “I know you’re still scanning me, I shouldn’t have to answer that question.”

 

He sure as hell felt it, especially with Connor’s hand lingering nearby. Connor glanced away, for the first time looking at least a little shy.

 

“- I’m just asking because I need you to know that I’m following your lead with this right now. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever,” he explained, watching him.

 

“Whenever?” he repeated and even in the dim light of his room, he could see an expression equal parts playful and predatory cross his face.

 

Well, fuck. He was apparently doing the most useless speech ever right now if Connor was giving him that kind of look. “To an _extent_ , Connor.”

 

“Hm,” he hummed, sounding amused, and went right back to what he was doing. As he felt him nudging up his shirt to splay his warm hand against skin he never touched, Hank realized he very well might be as new to whatever he was about to experience as Connor was. He never really considered what combining an android’s efficiency to this would do to the actual act itself. He exhaled a shuddery breath at just the thought. “I don’t think I want to wait anymore.”

 

Fuck, the _implications_ of that. How long had he been thinking about it? “Anymore, huh?”

 

Connor didn’t answer at first, nudging his shirt higher until Hank got the hint and helped him take it off. A part of him felt immediately self-conscious but Connor barely blinked an eye. He just seemed happy to be able to explore him, the same eagerness he put into cases being applied here. As he dipped his head to start pressing slow, easy kisses against his skin, Hank lifted a hand to tangle his fingers into his hair. He didn’t seem like he was expecting it, but apparently it felt good, because there was one of those quiet moans out of him again. His teeth nipped at his skin and he immediately just reacted to the sensation, hips uselessly rocking up against him. Any attempt at not looking like a fucking horny teenager was going to be impossible.

 

He was going to die tonight. It was official. Just make the fucking grave right now.

 

“I don’t think you want to wait either,” Connor pointed out, simply, eyes flicking up to his face. Hank just let out and breathless laugh and pulled him up to kiss him again deeply. No, he thought, he really, really didn’t.

 

It would be a good death, at least.


End file.
